


Best Bet

by winterwingz



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, College, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gay Steve Rogers, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I Hate Obadiah Stane, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwingz/pseuds/winterwingz
Summary: Steve Rogers was one of the most popular boys at his college, not to mention one of the best football players on the team. When his grades start slipping and the opportunity of getting to be on the team is almost up, Tony slips in and offers him a deal. He'll tutor Steve in all subjects that he needs it for. But in return, Steve has to show up with Tony at charity galas to impress his father. And oh, did I mention? Tony has the biggest crush on this boy imaginable.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 23
Kudos: 219





	1. Tonys Offer

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to Aelina (@jrhodeys on instagram) who made a very good story line of this in her graphic editing on Instagram. I told her I would make it into writing form but, guess what, I procrastinated. (Sorry, Aelina, love you tons.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Steve's position on the football team is threatened because of his poor grades, Tony decides to step in.

**STEVE ROGERS HAD ALWAYS HATED** Coach Fury's office. 

The room was dark and dusty, the blinds drawn in to block the natural sunlight from coming into the room. The shelves were left empty, and the big desk that sat in the front of the blond was clear of anything that had once been there. The carpets were bland, the walls a boring shade of beige. No student or teacher liked to be in here, which only spoke for itself. It seemed like no one had ever occupied the office in the first place, seeming at first just another place of wasted space on campus.

There was only two things that were slightly bearable about the room. The fact that it smelled like vanilla cookies, and the photograph hanging on the wall in a dark corner. The photo was bright, happy. A white light in the dark.

The picture showed Coach Fury and his two adopted daughters, Maria and Carol. The three of them stood smiling, arms wrapped around each other at a fair. In his hands, Fury was holding a teddy bear that he had won from one of the many game booths. A smile adorned his features, making the man look seemingly younger. Fury was always happier when the two girls came around for the holidays, the workouts easier on the tea, and his mood always brightened. The team loved it when they came around.

Most of the team one way or another had fallen in "love" with either Maria or Carol. While Steve didn't share those feelings, he couldn't doubt that they were both very successful and kind women. Carol worked as an officer in the Air Force, while Maria had chosen to become a marine. When Coach Fury had found out about the teams interest in his two daughters, he immediately forbid trying to flirt with either one of them or asking for their numbers. (Not that they would give it to any of the boys, anyway.) 

Not that Steve minded. Pretty girls didn't exactly meet his interests.

Once or maybe even twice Steve had been able to talk to both of them. From what he knew, they could put up a very good arm-wrestling match. 

In freshman year, a boy on the team had made a sexist comment to Maria, and in return she challenged him to a boxing match. He, of course, accepted, believing that it would be easier than any fight he had ever been in. Maria beat him. In mere _seconds_.

It became quite obvious to Steve that Maria and Carol were Coach Fury's sources of happiness. He loved his daughters more than anything in the world. Not to mention that it was absolute hell for the team when they left after the holiday seasons. The welcome was the best part for everyone, the goodbye being the one thing that was dreaded. Fury would start to return to his old routine: more yelling, mood swinging from left to right in moments. This cycle had continued for the two years that Steve had been at college playing football.

"Are you listening to me, boy?" Fury questioned, reaching out and snapping his fingers in front of the blonds face. As he was forced out of his head space, he could feel the red rising up his neck and onto his face. He only hoped that Coach wouldn't be able to see it in the dark lighting of the room.

"Yes, sir. All ears," Steve responded. 

"Do you know why I called you in here?" Coach asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve for the last two days had opted out of football practice. He had been in his dorm, catching up on the work that he hadn't yet finished for his classes. His grades were gradually going down because of these missing assignments. But of course Coach Fury would think this was due to arrogance. The nights were long, not to mention that the coffee maker in his small kitchen was broken. (He and Bucky had tried to fix it. Many times. It seemed as if now they would only have to buy a new one. Another valuable fifteen dollars down the drain for something that would probably break again.)

Balancing a sport and classes was not easy, but the blond knew that Coach wouldn't take that as an excuse. In a hurry. Steve had emailed him about it. It explained his current situation, and how he would make up for it later. But in came the one sentenced response: _Meet me in my office at 6._

So, in short, yes. Steve knew better than anything why Coach had called him into his office. The blond lowered his head, embarrassed. "My grades, sir. I emailed you--"

Fury was quick to interrupt him. "I saw your email. Don't try and forget about your attendance to _daily_ practice," the older man added, shaking his head in disappointment. "What is going on with you lately, Rogers? This team needs you, you know this team needs you. But what do I get? Another cocky college boy blowing off his chances just like _that_. Do you know what happens to cocky college boys?"

"They don't succeed, sir."

He nodded. "If this behavior continues to come from you, I'll have no choice other than to kick you off. If I don't, then the school sure damn will."

College football was not a thing that Steve enjoyed. He would rather spend his time and focus on his art education degree, not on lifting weights and trying to make it into the NFL. But, he was never as naturally good in academic subjects that other students around him excelled in. Mid-high school, Steve tried out for the football team to make up for it. Senior year, when the college football scouts started to come in to pick boys out, Steve was chosen. They offered him a full ride scholarship just to have him play on the team and attend. He couldn't just say no to the gracious offer. 

After his mother died, Steve found himself stuck in financial issues during high school. He was almost put in an orphanage, before Mrs. Barnes decided to swoop in and take him under her wing. A scholarship opportunity like this was the only thing that would be able to pay for college. (And he definitely wasn't going to ask Mrs. Barnes, he would live with that guilt forever.) The school had a known reputation not only for its great sports team, but also for its art program. He had to accept if it wanted a chance.

Having a position on the football team practically meant everything. No football team, no tuition payment.

"I understand, sir. I'll do my best to fix these things immediately." 

Steve knew it wasn't going to be easy. How was he going to be able to catch up on all his classes and understand everything he hadn't before? Student tutors were a valuable option, but word could get around fast that way. Everyone would suddenly know about the popular football player and his inability to learn basic things. If Steve went to his professors, they would ask why he hadn't been paying attention in class beforehand. Or asked for help earlier. Every single corner he turned it seemed as if something bad could and would result from it.

"Damn right, Rogers. Now get out of my office."

Steve got out of his seat as quickly as he could to get out of there, being careful as to closing the door softly behind him. The blond leaned up against the nearest wall in the dark hallway, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. The place was empty except for him and Coach Fury. He was grateful to be left alone to his own thoughts, as ideas began to run through his head. He could find an online tutor to help, but he was extremely award over cameras and talking over the phone. YouTube was another option that could prove to be a great help.

He would have to ask Wanda or Natasha later for class notes.

He could hear footsteps coming near, but Steve ignored them. So what if some teacher saw him in the hallway? Like it even mattered now.

"So, you need better grades or you're getting kicked off the football team? How cliche, Rogers." 

He gulped, and loudly too. Steve knew who that voice belonged to without even having to look at him. Tony Stark: the school's richest and most popular playboy. Everyone knew who Tony was. What was his business snooping around in empty hallways and eavesdropping on private conversations? The blond couldn't help but be annoyed that Tony was just here openly teasing him about it. There was no point to it either. Why tease the failing football player when you could be off for vacation on a private island with no consequences whatsoever? He huffed in annoyance.

Tony could go off to Europe for a month or two and return with no change to his grades. The professors at the school were always on his side, always understanding and giving him the time to do his work. (Maybe because they could possibly get fired if they didn't. Tony had power around here.) Oh, the lovely perks of having money. Steve had always wanted to go to Europe. He wanted to explore the quiet streets of Greece and walk around the historic sites in Rome. Tony had all of those privileges. Steve didn't. 

Perhaps that was one of the main differences between the two boys. One was a football player that had come from a poor lifestyle in his hometown with dreams of becoming an art teacher. The other was simply a pretty little playboy from a rich powerful family, who probably didn't even know what his ambitions were. Steve sighed, trying to get these thoughts out of his head. He couldn't discriminate just because Tony had been more fortunate than him. Sometimes he wondered if he was rich, would he and Tony be friends at the current moment? But wondering wasn't reality, he had to realize that.

Bucky and Sam were all he needed as far as friends went. Dating wasn't something he wanted to get into.

"Yeah, whatever Stark. Shove off," Steve told him, making his way to the nearest exit.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't go!" Stark called after him, running to catch up. Steve almost laughed at how short his legs were but kept quiet. "I have an offer for you."

" _What_?" _An offer?_

"I tutor you and you go to three stuffy charity galas with me," Tony explained, waving his hands in the air as he looked up at Steve. Before any questions could be asked, he continued. "I'll provide the suits -- no one wants your physique in an unfitting rental."

"Are you kidding me Stark?"

Steve knew that Tony only had to be joking. 

"I need an impressive date to shut up Daddy Dearest. You're here." _Oh_ , he thought, _not joking._

Tony's face was close to his, and the beating in Steve's heart only quickened its pace. He could again feel the red coming up his neck in embarrassment, which only had him wishing that he had control over his blush, it was getting to be ridiculous. He had to keep it cool, or Tony would notice that he was faltering.

" _Oh_ ," Steve responded, grinning, "so now I'm impressive?"

"Well? What do you say, Rogers?"

"Stark, why would I want a rich, egotistical playboy to help me with my homework?" Steve asked. Tony's eyes widened in surprise, before covering up his facial expressions with a stupid smirk. Steve wanted to slap it off his face. _You dumb, rich..._ Steve ran out of insults in his head at that point _... but cute, tiny, rude boy!_

"Besides me being a genius?" Steve scoffed, Tony continued anyways, " _I'm_ your best bet, Rogers."

The silence between the two college boys said everything that Tony needed to know. Of course, Steve would accept his offer, hell knows he needs it. Tony could only hope that Steve would accept his offer. His father was picky when it came to dates. All of the women he brought to him didn't meet any of his standards. That one doesn't know how to properly drink wine, that one can't go three sentences without saying the word like, that one doesn't look good in green. They had to be perfect in every single way. Knowledgeable, pretty, honest and whatever else Howard could think of on the spot. Pepper Potts was the one Howard wanted Tony to pick.

Pepper and Tony had met through family friends, and had at one point attended a couple of events together. Both of them realized almost immediately that they didn't like each other, and decided to stay as friends. Suddenly after their "break up", every conversation was about Pepper. _What happened to you and Ms. Potts? Did she run off with another boy?_ Her absence at events also brought on the attention of many rich snobs who only wanted something to gossip to one another about.

_That sweet girl you brought, is she gone? What was her name, again? Penelope! Yes, she was a good one for you._

Tony got fed up, which was why he was here. Also maybe because he had happened to have a liking towards the football player, but that was beside the point.

"I... fine," Steve sighed as he gave in to it.

Tony smiled. "Six o'clock tomorrow, library. Bring your books. Don't be late, blue eyes." And with that, he walked off towards the exit door, a newly founded confidence in his step.

Steve was the one to call after him this time. "I'm going to regret this aren't I?"

Tony looked back, _"Six o'clock!"_

Steve decided on one thing right then and there: Tony Stark was going to be the death of him.


	2. The Tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nervous Steve tells Bucky about Tony's deal, and ultimately decides to show up for help in his classes. Needless to say, Tony is late, and Steve is a bit annoyed. Some words are exchanged between the two. (Also known as: Tony and Steve are oblivious to the fact that they both like each other.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My school is closed due to COVID-19, so expect some more updates soon! (Wash your hands, y'all, don't be nasty.)

**LATER THAT NIGHT, STEVE COULDN'T** seem to get Tony off of his mind. The blond tossed and turned in his small mattress, shutting his eyes closed and trying his best to go to sleep. He needed it desperately for tomorrow, for there would be class and football practice. Not to mention his tutoring session. Violently sobbing himself to sleep was another option he could go for, but Steve wasn't in the mood to bother Bucky with his meaningless crying. The boy groaned, running his hands through his hair.

A thought passed through his mind: _Was Tony dealing with the same problem? No, probably not._

From what Steve had heard about the brunet from the many girls on campus, he didn't think twice about most things. He didn't want to believe their gossip now. Tony had proved himself to be a good person, maybe not to all people, but at least him.

"Would you just tell me what's going on with you?" Bucky asked, the light from his phone illuminating his face as he looked over at Steve. "I would rather _not_ listen to you groan all night."

Steve sighed, _should he tell him?_

"It's nothing, Buck."

"Well, it's obviously something." Bucky shifted his position on his bed, now sitting on the edge so he could look Steve straight in the face. His hair was in a messy bun, some loose strands falling around his face. The brunet raised an eyebrow in question, but Steve still refused to answer. "Who was it this time? I'll beat them up, no questions asked."

To say that Steve had a bullying problem in his childhood was a major understatement. The boys in his school -- who were always bigger, better and stronger -- always thought it would be funny to follow him on his way back home and beat him up in alleyways. In the hallways after classes, they would knock his art supplies right out of his hands, steal his shoes, even sometimes going to the extent of taking his backpack for the week before returning it. They never got in trouble for the things that they did to Steve, so he told his mother he didn't want to go to school anymore. That was when Bucky found out about it, and _boy_ was he furious.

_Bucky stood in front of Steve, arms crossed. He had always towered over him. "Are they bullying you?" He asked, looking down at the smaller boy._

_"No--no, they... they were just teasing," Steve stuttered, a blush coming onto his face. Bucky knew he was lying. There was no denying the fact that the bruises that littered his body were caused by those boys. The scrapes on his knees, the cuts on his hands. They were never just "teasing"._

_"Those assholes," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists. He pointed at Steve, "You stay here, don't move a muscle. I'm just going over to talk with them."_

Steve smiled fondly at the memory. That day, Bucky had beaten his bullies to a pulp. No fatal injuries to any of them, but it was enough that told them to back off. Everyone in the school afterward suddenly knew a new piece of information: don't mess with little Steve Rogers, or else you'll get it from James Barnes. Bucky had always provided Steve with protection and friendship, which Steve's mother had adored Bucky for. If she was still alive, the blond was sure that she would still have him come to dinner every month or so and go watch a movie. He missed that more than anything.

"It was no one, Buck. It's just... I might be kicked off the football team. My grades suck and even Coach is getting onto me for it," Steve explained, Bucky listening intently to his words. "I was just outside of his office in the hallway when Tony freaking Stark walks up to me." Steve closed his eyes, laying his head back on his pillow. He remembered those exact moments vividly. The stupid smirk on Tony's face, the smile on his lips when he had said yes. Except for one thing: Steve didn't regret it yet, which was surprising.

" _And_?"

"He had obviously been eavesdropping and gave me some stupid offer. He told me that he would tutor me in whatever class I needed it for, only if I agreed to show up to some charity event to impress his dad. Tony even said he would get the suit for me!" He let out a long breath, running his hands through his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. The whole situation made him nervous. "It's just... weird. I don't know how to explain it in a way that makes sense."

"Did you agree? I mean, he _is_ hot," Bucky responded, grinning. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Tell that to Sam."

They had been dating for months now.

"Did you or did you _not_ agree?" He persisted. "I would've said yes in a heartbeat, honestly. Imagine it, Stevie. You get to go on a _date_ \--"

"--it's not a _date,"_ Steve interrupted, blushing. It wasn't a date. Why would it be? The small voice in the back of his head said something else: _Could it be?_

"You get to go on a date with Tony Stark!" He exclaimed, smiling as he looked over at Steve. "So tell me, and tell me the truth, did you agree?"

" _Maybe,"_ the blond responded in a whisper. "Look, it's not that big of a deal. Tony will probably ditch me halfway through anyway, you know how it is with people like him. Obsess about it all you want, but I'm going to bed."

But would Tony be the same way with him? He desperately wanted it to end out differently than how it had ended for all the others. 

Bucky only laughed at him, before lifting up the covers and laying down in his bed once again. "You're a punk."

"And you're a jerk."

☆

Steve skimmed through his closet in a hurry, eyes scanning around in hopes of finding an acceptable outfit to wear to his tutoring session with Tony. It wasn't even like the brunet care about what he looked like, but the blond nonetheless wanted to look presentable. All of his t-shirts and collared shirts were definitely out of the picture, which only left his small collection of sweaters. He grabbed his two favorites off of their hangers and held them up to show to Bucky, who sat across the room texting someone furiously on his phone. One was an off-white color but very comfortable, and the other was light blue, but not as comfortable. He loved them both dearly. 

"Bucky?" He asked in hopes to grab his attention. "Which sweater, blue or white?"

His head popped up, a sudden look of disgust coming onto his face. "A sweater? Those sweaters? _Stevie_ , no--"

"If you don't pick one of them I'll pick myself," Steve threatened, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky sighed in defeat. "The white one."

Steve put the blue one back on its hanger and back into the closet and tugged his shirt off over his head. He threw the shirt on his bed, telling himself that he would pick it up later. (Which was definitely not going to happen.) Fitting his arms through the sleeves and pulling it over his chest, Steve realized again for the thousandth time exactly how comfortable this sweater was. Bucky seemed to hate every sweater he had ever owned in his lifetime, though. If only his friend knew about the amazing benefits it came with.

"Should I dry my hair?" Steve asked, scrunching his nose. After football practice had ended for the day, Steve had gotten caught up talking to some teammates. He got to his shared dorm later than expected and showered in a hurry. The library was a short walk from where he was, but he still wanted to be a little early. Who knew what time Tony would arrive? He didn't know if the brunet was a late or early type of guy. 

_Tony_. Steve fought the smile that he felt coming onto his face.

"Definitely," his friend responded, his attention not even directed to him. He was texting Sam. But it didn't exactly matter to Steve at the moment, he would dry it anyways. "Also, Sam is coming over later with some Italian food. Will you be back in time for that?"

"I mean, if you and Sam _want_ me to be gone then your wish is my command." Steve held back a laugh and grabbed a towel from the rack in their bathroom. Even from there, he could hear Bucky choke on his own spit. "But it depends on what time he will be coming over. I shouldn't be gone later than nine or so."

"That's fine with me," he finally said. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'm literally going to the library. How am I going to get hurt?" 

"Your feelings. Guys like Tony--"

"Do you have to bring this up now?" Steve let out a sigh. "I'm already cautious about it. He's not even gay."

"You don't know that," Bucky said with an innocent shrug. 

"It's Tony." Steve looked down at his phone, the screen telling him that it was already five-fifty. "I have to go, I'll see you and Sam later tonight."

☆

The library was quiet as usual when Steve arrived there five minutes later. Only a couple of students occupied some tables by themselves, studying for upcoming tests or scrolling mindlessly through their phones. After looking around, Steve spotted a table on the far left corner with a window view of he school garden and made his way to sit over there before anyone else could take the spot. Not like they would, anyway. Hopefully Tony wouldn't mind this spot too much, Steve just had an everlasting love for pretty gardens.

The blond sat at that table waiting patiently for Tony to arrive. His head would pop up expectantly when the door opened with a sudden gust of air, only to see that it was just another face of another student that he didn't know. The minutes seemed to pass by ever so slowly, and Steve had never been so bored. He ended up giving some of the floor tiles names and even created fake storylines for the people that sat around him. The girl with an afro across the room, which he had named Amelia, was from Poland and had a strong accent. A boy who was looking at the books in the nonfiction section had been named Jamie, who came to college wanting to be a book author.

Five fifty-five had suddenly turned into seven o'clock. Had Tony really stood him up to a tutoring session? With no notice beforehand? _Wow_.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve muttered to himself, "Of course I can't be late, but he can." The thought of Tony never showing up made him a bit upset, he didn't want to believe that theory just yet. He didn't want to believe the rumors of Tony standing up girls on dates or people at parties. 

The door to the library opened, and a disheveled looking Tony walked through, scanning the room. Girl's heads turned as he walked in, but he paid them no attention. Steve raised his hand at him and waved, and he came over immediately.

"Hi, hi, sorry I'm late and all that. Lab emergency." His shirt had a coffee stain on it and the rest of his clothes looked wrinkled. Tony's hair was everywhere, as he tried to tame it by running his hands through his hair. 

"I've been waiting here for-- you know what?" Steve knew he couldn't be angry at him forever. Lab emergencies happened. (With people like him, anyway.) "Never mind. Let's just get started." Bucky would probably call the cops if he didn't show up by nine. That's an exaggeration, but he would still probably be worried.

"Hold on--" Tony smirked, "Did the infamously stubborn Steve Rogers just give up a fight?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Unlike you, Stark," he pointed his finger at Tony, "I can't pay my way through college--"

"Funny." Tony was a bit hurt by the comment, but it was true. He could pay his way out of college if he wanted to.

"--so being on the football team is the only thing keeping me enrolled. I really need to get the best grades I can."

Bad grades, no football team. No football team, no college. No college, then what? A lifetime of working from store to store, paycheck to paycheck? Nowadays, no good jobs were available without a degree. Unless he became a model or an actor, which those two options were definitely already out of the picture. He was definitely too awkward in film and stiff on camera. 

"You really are more than just a pretty face, huh, Rogers?" 

He blushed, trying to discreetly hide his face beneath his hands. Did Tony really think that he had a pretty face? "Whatever," he spat out. "Can we do Stats now?"

"Yeah, easy, let's go."

☆

The tutoring session went well, unlike how Steve had thought it would go originally. He imagined Tony getting angered at him for not understanding simple topics, but it was quite the opposite. Tony was extremely patient, always going in-depth and allowing him to ask questions whenever he wanted to. By the time they were done, the library had cleared out except for them, the librarian, and two more students at the most. 

"I... actually understand math. I understand math," he whispered, disbelief coating his words. "Wow. How the heck did you--"

"Did you seriously just say heck?" Tony shook his head, smiling at the blond. "Anyways, catch up, Rogers. I'm a genius. I'll never tell my secrets."

To say that Tony was simply just a genius was an understatement. He had been in multiple magazines for his discoveries and inventions while working at the side of his father. Tony had been interviewed many times and had even written articles on some of his studies. Steve only wished he could be that smart. Teachers all around the campus adored Tony. Steve also wished that he could say that same about teachers' attitudes towards him.

" _Oh_?" Steve responded, raising an eyebrow. "Could I get just one secret's answers from him?"

"If he thinks it's okay to answer."

"First, though, stop talking about yourself in third person or this whole thing is off."

"Hard bargain, Rogers. But sure." _Thank god._

"But... why-- why can't you bring someone else to those galas? I'm nothing... special. You're around much more special people."

Steve was sure of the fact that the brunet had met many impressive men and women in his lifetime. They were rich, too, and more likely to impress his father. The choice to ask Steve was out of place. He didn't understand.

"Oh, you think so?" Tony asked, bringing his face closer to Steve's, smiling. "Who should I have brought then?"

"Tiberius Stone? Sunset Bain? I don't know! Just... why me?"

At least Sunset and Tiberius were somewhat successful.

"You have... you -- don't let this get to your head -- are extremely charming, handsome, and polite. Surprisingly funny, too. And you're all around just -- I don't know, Rogers, okay? You were just... my best bet."

An awkward silence fell between the two. They stared at each other, smiling like idiots. Something had changed, that was for sure.

Steve looked at Tony, "You're not as bad as I thought, either."

"I-- _Right_." Steve had sworn he saw a red on his face, but Tony looked away before he could make sure of it. "Thanks. I think."

"Right back at you."

☆

"This movie sucks," Sam complained, stuffing pasta into his mouth. "How could anyone enjoy this?"

Sam and Bucky sat smushed together on the couch, while Steve -- who didn't want to be the third wheel -- had offered to sit on the floor while they watched Netflix. Steve would've complained about the floor being dirty and the end of the couch hurting his back, but the food Sam had brought had erased those thoughts from his mind. 

The movie was some romcom that Bucky had decided would be good to watch. Steve had arrived after it started playing, but it didn't really matter. It was about some girl in New York City who had wanted to become famous but met a guy who taught her that fame didn't matter and love did. Currently, the girl and this boy were on their first date at a park. Steve could basically predict the ending from there: after the first date, there would be some sort of conflict. The two wouldn't talk for a while before they both decided to see each other one last time. When they talk, they realize it was all a big misunderstanding and that they both love each other. He was dying to see if he was right or not.

"Its a perfectly enjoyable movie," Bucky responded, smacking Sam on the arm. "And don't talk with your mouth full, it's disgusting. Right, Steve?"

"Don't be gross Sam," Steve agreed with a smile.

"Bucky, your bun is atrocious, so you can't say shit."

"My bun had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation at hand. And I think my bun is rather cute, so if you would back off--"

Before their argument turned into a food fight, Steve stood up and went to their small kitchen to get some water. The fridge was three feet tall and the sink sometimes didn't work. At least they had a kitchen, to begin with. Since it was an open floor plan, Steve could still hear every word Sam and Bucky were saying to each other. They always had little meaningless arguments like this. But they did both love each other a lot. The two were just very stubborn. Very.

There was a knock at the door.

"Steve, could you get that?" Bucky asked. " _Hey_ \-- stop that--"

The blond went to the door, opening it without checking through the peephole first. If a murderer were to come into their dorm, he was sure that they wouldn't knock first. But no one was there. And on the floor, was a medium-sized box with a bow on it. He leaned down to pick it up and carried it back inside. Steve put the box on the kitchen counter, spotting the tag on the side. He grabbed it carefully, reading the handwriting on the inside.

 _Tomorrow. I'll pick you up at 8. Be ready._ \-- Tony.

He slipped the note in his pocket and began to remove the bow from the package. He removed the top, only to see the suit sitting inside.

"What is it, Steve?" Bucky questioned, pushing Sam away from him. "Sam! I swear to god-- stop! -- Sam! The pasta is _on_ my thighs!"

Steve laughed at the two before responding. "Just some package, nothing important."

Like the night before, there was only one thought on his mind: _Tony_.

Would this cycle ever end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony be like: Let me call this boy handsome but then NOT ask him out. Yes. Perfect. (Bisexual awakening?)  
> Jesus, the two chapters I've posted need some serious editing. I'm sorry y'all had to read some of this I'm tired.  
> Also, thank you all for the kudos and kind comments, I really do appreciate it.


	3. Abstract Painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I added chapter four to the end of this chapter, so sorry for any confusion on that. Enjoy!

**STEVE WAS UNSURE OF HOW** to feel about the package that showed up in front of his door last night with no sign of Tony. But he knew he should have expected for something to show up at his door, anyway. During his short time of knowing the millionaire -- and knowing very little about him -- Steve knew with no doubt that he liked to be dramatic. To make an entrance everywhere he went. Tony could show up anywhere and anytime wearing the most ridiculous of outfits and nobody would question him on it. Because that was Tony Stark. The package showing up with his name written on it and a brief note was nothing out of the ordinary for the brunet to do.

Tony could have shown his face. He could've waited at the door for Steve to answer, the package held tightly in his tiny hands. But he didn't, and it hurt Steve a little.

Instead of dealing with his thoughts, Steve showed up early to his art class instead. It was one of the only places that he felt he could truly be honest with himself. No cheerleaders, no football buddies that wanted to hang out for underage drinking. It was peaceful. 

Steve knew way too many people. It was one of the things that came with being a star football player. In classes, people would walk up to him randomly and start a conversation. Most times it was someone he couldn't even put a name to. All of the art classes had a different crowd. He didn't fit in with them, that much was true, but it was nice to not be so known. They would give him one look and it was over. Steve Rogers wasn't Steve Rogers, the popular boy. Steve Rogers was Steve Rogers, the boy who liked to paint and draw portraits. 

The blond put his frustration out onto the canvas, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't know what he was painting, but did it matter? Strokes and dabs of paint here and there, maybe a cloud in the left corner. It was okay to express freedom in the world of art. Soon enough, his hands were littered with different shades of paint, his shirt stained with them too. He didn't really mind, though.

"Steve," Mrs. Carter said in amazement from behind him, a smile coming upon her red-tinted lips, "That's absolutely beautiful."

Mrs. Carter had always appreciated Steve's art. She let him come in early and leave late if he pleased. He was granted access to the clay and the special oils and paintbrushes in the secret cabinet behind her desk. The respect that was shared between the two of them only seemed to grow every time they were together, and he was truly grateful for it. Where would he be without a great art teacher such as her?

"Thank you, Mrs. Carter," he looked up at her with a smile. 

"And what does this piece represent, Mr. Rogers?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

To tell the truth, it didn't represent anything in particular. Perhaps it was his feelings painted out onto a canvas, but he wasn't even sure of how to explain that. His feelings were confusing lately, all jumbled up into one big mess that he couldn't unravel. 

"It... doesn't represent anything exactly. I'm not sure. Not yet, at least."

"Well, you make sure to tell me when you find out." She walked off to her desk without another word.

With a quick look at the clock, Steve saw that there was only fifteen minutes before class actually started. Other classmates would start to file in soon. He picked up all his brushes and walked to the sink to rinse them off. He would leave his painting out to dry in the class overnight, and pick it up in the morning. Maybe he could give it to Mrs. Carter as a gift, as he did with most of his pieces if he didn't keep them or give them to someone else for a Christmas or birthday gift. 

"You're talented at painting, you know." 

Steve jumped, before turning around with a tint of red on his cheeks. It was from Tony. Of course, it was Tony, looking good as always. He wore his lab coat over his t-shirt and high waisted jeans. In his hands was Steve's abstract art, a smirk on his lips as he stared at it before putting it back down. "You're kind of creepy when you scare me like that, you know," Steve told him. "I didn't know you had an art class."

"Oh, I don't. My father was friends with Mrs. Carter at one point, shes a family friend."

"Oh. Well, thanks for the compliment, I guess. My art... it's kind of messy. I'm glad you like it." Steve rubbed the back of the neck with his hand, looking down at the floor. He looked like a mess. His blond hair was probably everywhere, paint stains on his clothing and his hands. Most likely his face too. His art wasn't that good, either. He wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else seeing him like this, or even saw his art. So why did he care about it around Tony?

"Of course I would like it. Why wouldn't I?"

Why wouldn't I? Steve couldn't believe the words that came out of Tony Stark's mouth. He would've never expected it.

Silence. Again.

Every time they talked, there was always the silence that occurred between both of them. Both of them had acknowledged it, but couldn't begin to explain it. It stayed like that for a minute, before Tony decided to speak up.

"Did... did you um, get my... gift ?" Tony asked him, biting the edge of his lips. Steve found himself staring at them, before forcing himself to divert his eyes to somewhere else on his face. "I was hoping I didn't get the wrong place. That would've been weird."

"You got the right place," Steve said with an awkward nod of his head. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Did you try it on? I had to contact your damn football coach to get your measurements," he explained with a laugh. 

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. Tony specially ordered a suit for him? He internally shook his head. Without a fitted suit, he would be the clown at the gala, the joke among all the rich old women and men. Of course Tony specially ordered it. He didn't want to show up with an idiot in a too tight-fitting or baggy suit. Nothing else other than that.

"I haven't tried it on yet. Guess we'll find out and see."

"Guess we'll find out and see," Tony repeated. "I'll see you later, then? You're not backing out yet?"

"I won't be backing out just yet."

Tony smiled, looking out into the classroom. "Good. I'll be going, I wouldn't want to interrupt your class."

Part of Steve wanted Tony to sit next to him for the rest of the class. To compliment him on his art and ask questions about the different shades and types of paintbrushes. To ask him to grab something he dropped on the floor. To whisper stupid jokes in his ear and try not to be called out by Mrs. Carter.

But he didn't say anything about those thoughts. "Farewell, Stark."

"Farewell to you too, Rogers."

☆

"Go take a fucking shower," Bucky told Steve, scrunching his nose in disgust. "You smell horrible. Goddamn ."

"How is it my fault that Coach was in a bad mood today?" Steve asked him. 

During the day it had begun to rain, which of course didn't cancel practice. It only made it worse. Steve was in his regular clothing from earlier that day, but the rest of his body was covered in a layer of dirt, mud, and sweat. 

"I don't know, but you probably did something," Bucky said jokingly, pointing to the bathroom as he pinched his nose. "Please just go take a shower."

But the blond did agree with his friend. He probably did smell horrible -- which he was nose blind to at this point -- and his skin felt sticky and gross. Without another word he went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. Steve closed the door and began to take all his clothes off. 

His thoughts mindlessly wandered to Tony earlier that day in the art classroom. He didn't know how Tony knew he was in there, or where his dorm even was for goodness sake, but the blond was glad to have seen him. The smile on Tony's lips, the genuine compliments that he had given him. Steve knew he couldn't have been developing a crush. Of course, he couldn't be. Tony Stark wasn't gay, and never would be. There would be no point in developing feelings, it would only end in hurt.

But he couldn't deny the way his heart started to beat a little faster when he talked with him. Or the way he blushed so easily with his words. It wasn't a crush. It couldn't be.

After cleaning up he got out of the shower as fast as he could. "Hey, Buck?" Steve called out from the bathroom door, "Could you get me the box that's on my bed?"

He heard a muffled yes from the door, followed by heavy footsteps toward his room. He could only hope that Bucky wouldn't get curious and open it and see the contents inside. Steve didn't want to discuss it at this point. You're going on a date? When did you get this? Was this at the door last night? Why didn't you tell me? He would tell Bucky soon, of course, he would, but just not now.

"What the fuck?" Bucky said, "Stevie, what is this? A suit? Is this from Tony?"

Crap.

Steve quickly wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom. " Buck," Steve began, "It's not a big deal."

"I think this is a pretty big deal," he responded with a smirk on his face, holding the package in his hands. It relieved Steve to see that the note wasn't attached, and was still in the pockets on his pants from yesterday.

" Bucky--"

"I didn't know you had a little secret boyfriend! Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky laughed. "So secretive. Picnic in the park? Flying around in one of his private planes?"

" I don't have a boyfriend, I'm not going on a date," the blond reminded him. "It's the charity event I told you about, and that is the suit he said he would get for me to wear. Rich people are snobby about what people wear, you know."

"So... a date."

"No." Steve successfully grabbed the box quickly out of his hands, gripping it tightly in his grasp. "Your definition of a date is much different than mine."

"I'm just messing with you, Stevie. Don't get so worked up about it, okay? I care about you, and Tony is much or less a... fuckb--"

"I wasn't getting worked up," he responded hastily. Tony wasn't a fuckboy. Steve wouldn't call him a fuckboy. But Bucky didn't see it that way. Tony had a heart, too. He sighed, "I'm sorry. I know you're worried, but... he and I aren't dating. We aren't going on dates and we don't like each other."

" Mhm. Sure seems like Stark has taken a liking to you."

"He doesn't."

"Sure, keep saying that, you'll see."

☆

Steve waited awkwardly for Tony to arrive, standing on the sidewalk right outside of his dormitory. He was fumbling with his hands, picking at his nails carelessly. The heat from the outdoors was beginning to make him sweat, and the bugs were beginning to try and bite at his neck. Steve swatted them away. He had decided to be early, too, which ended up being a big mistake. People who passed by gave him second looks, which only meant one thing: he was entirely out of place. His hair was done up and was wearing a suit with the nicest shoes he owned. In the bathroom mirror, the blond had thought he looked somewhat decent. But now in public, his low self-esteem was really beginning to shine.

He reached his hand inside one of the pockets of his pants to retrieve his phone. The screen illuminated his face in the dark. Eight. Tony should be here any minute now. He tapped his foot on the hard pavement out of pure nervousness.

At the sound of an engine, Steve turned his head. A sleek black car had pulled up along the sidewalk, the passenger window rolled all the way down. The man sitting at the driver's seat was no other than Tony, his brown hair messy and falling around his face. A smile made its way onto Steve's face. "You going to get in, Rogers?" Tony questioned, popping the car door open.

Steve nodded and got in the car, hitting his head against the top of the door frame. A small pulsing sensation started at the top of his head, and he rubbed it in hopes of the pain going away. The blond felt his face heat up, but the darkness inside of the car was enough to hide it. He pulled the car door closed and buckled himself into the seat.

Tony looked him up and down, with what seemed like eyes of judgment. "You look--"

"Bad?" Steve jested. 

"I was going to say decent, but that's another way of wording it," Tony jokingly added on. "Don't stress about it. You look great."

As Tony drove, most of the ride there was spent in silence. Steve spent that time looking out the window, enjoying the views. He didn't get to go out as often as he would like to, and boy did it feel good to be doing something for once. 

"Can... can I roll the window down?" Despite the heat outside, he just wanted to feel the wind on his face. Tony only responded to that with a nod of his head. 

Steve rolled the window down in excitement, getting hit with a gust of fast blowing air. It blew his hair back and dried his eyes and mouth out, but he couldn't find one part of him that really seemed to care. He could fix his hair later. His body would always produce more saliva and his eyes would always produce an endless supply of tears.

The blond didn't know it, but every once in awhile, Tony would look over and smile at this boy being such a dork about being able to have the window rolled down in the car.

He rolled the window back up as they pulled into a parking lot. Steve almost got out, but Tony seemed to be stuck in place. He left the car door alone, waiting for Tony's cue to get out. Silence filled the space between them once again.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, letting out a long breath. "Talk."

"What?" 

"Talk to me. Say something. Anything. Tell me about yourself."

Steve had a lot of interesting stories he could tell. How Bucky had protected him from his childhood bullies. How he accidentally broke into the principal's office in high school. His experience in being background props in school plays, along with an understudy for the kids with the main parts. He decided to settle for a story that was simple to tell.

"I used to babysit my neighbor's cat when I was a kid," Steve began. "That cat hated my guts. It would scratch up my arms if I didn't feed it on time, and if it was disinterested in its toys it would try and destroy furniture around the house. Eventually, the neighbor was like, Steve, we love you, but you can't do this anymore for us. I got fired without even being told that I was being fired. My mother wasn't even mad at me for it. Later that week I had found a job for the local newspaper, except all I did was ride my bike around and throw it into people's yards. I got fired from that, too."

"How did you get fired?" Tony asked. His head was leaned against the back of his car seat, his eyes shut closed.

"I might have or might have not hit a woman in the face with one of the papers one afternoon. She was furious. This woman called it in and reported me and everything, even though I had apologized many times." Steve let out a small laugh. "The people there were like, really Steve? They didn't want to let me go because I was the only one willing to go around on my bike for such a low pay rate, but they didn't want to deal with her again."

"And did you have any jobs after that?"

"I had a lot of jobs after those. I used to pump gas at the gas station until I spilled it on someone's shoes. I walked dogs until one of the bigger ones tried to bite me. I also tried a local grocery store but I wasn't tall enough at the time to stock some of the shelves and I wasn't good at putting food in bags. I was fired literally every single time for some small reason but I didn't really care. There were always other jobs open for me to try out. Like lawn mowing, I was okay at that."

"What's your--"

"Wait. It's your turn to tell me about you."

Tony opened one of his eyes to give Steve a look, a small smile on his lips. "You could look all of that up, Rogers." 

"But I don't want to. Let me hear it from you and you only."

He lifted his head up from the car seat, narrowing his eyes at the blond. "I must say I'm surprised. But fine, I'll tell you something anyway." He looked out the window. "I never had to have a job like you when I was younger. My father had enough money to support the family for the rest of our lives. But, some part of me just wanted to be normal, you know? So I went out and got a job myself, never told my employer my real name and always wore a beanie over my hair. I worked in an auto shop, fixing people's cars in my free time. My father noticed how busy I had suddenly become and decided that he would follow me out one day to where I worked."

Tony stopped.

"So, what happened?" 

"He brought a car of his own in, asking specifically for me to fix it. But the car was a piece of shit, it couldn't even be fixed. He stood there for hours while I tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. It took all night only for me to fail. He told my employer that I was a bad mechanic, that I needed to be fired immediately. And though he appreciated my work and how much I had helped the shop, he had to fire me. My father did that to embarrass me, to teach me some sort of fucked up lesson. All I learned that night was how to be more secretive around him and my mother."

Steve looked over at Tony with a frown. "Your parents treated you that way? Why?" Steve's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It's fine, Rogers. It's nice having someone to talk to for once."

"You ready, Rogers?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Not my scene."

Tony laughed at that. "Not mine either."

Tony flipped open the mirror that was attached to the car ceiling, putting locks of his hair here and there to fix it. Steve did the same, realizing that somehow the wind had made his look a lot better than he had tried to make it look.

The brunet opened the car door, stepping out as Steve followed. The two walked together through the parking lot, as the area became more and more crowded as they got nearer.

"Do you have to attend every single one of these events?" Steve asked, his eyes wandering around. It was mostly old men and women who gathered around the entrance, the occasional young woman or man here and there. They all wore their fanciest outfits, with their posture perfect and steps that almost seemed fake. Steve pulled his shoulders back immediately. 

"Not always. But most times, yes."

As they continued to walk towards the entrance, Steve noticed how calm Tony seemed. It might not be either of their scenes or their crowds, but Tony was obviously accustomed to fitting into this lifestyle. Tony had dealt with this from a young age, and he felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for him. 

Curious eyes from all directions followed the two, and Steve noticed. But did Tony?

Steve leaned down and whispered in his ear as they were walking. "Is it okay to be nervous? People are looking at us."

"It's because they're homophobic assholes. A man and a man showing up together for an event, oh, how taboo," Tony mocked, flinging his hands up in the air. "Don't let them get to you. Shoulders back, hold your chin up high." Steve held his head up, and Tony smiled widely. "Not that high, Rogers. Laugh, right now. Like I just told you something funny."

So Steve did, and Tony gave him a side smirk. "You'll fit in just fine."

"Name?" A man at the front door asked them. He held a clipboard so tightly in one of his shaking hands that his knuckles were white. On the other hand, he held a blue fountain pen, with a feather at the top that was nearly falling apart. 

"Stark."

The man looked up immediately from his clipboard, red covering his cheeks. His shaking only seemed to worsen. "Oh, I apologize Mr. Stark. Go right in."

Tony put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, kid. It's all good."

The door was opened for the two of them, revealing the beautifully decorated interior of the building. It was almost blinding to Steve, it looked like a scene straight off of a movie. Immense chandeliers hung from the ceilings, red carpets covering the floor that they walked on. Banners were hung from posts on the wall. Waiters walked by everyone hurriedly, platters balanced on their hands with different types of food and drinks on top. Steve couldn't focus on just one thing in the room. His eyes switched from one place to the next, craning his neck to try and see everything. Oh, only if Bucky could see this right now.

The thought of quickly taking out his phone and snapping a picture for his friend occurred in his mind, but he pushed that idea away almost instantly. If Steve wanted to blend in, he knew he could walk around acting like a tourist.

More heads seemed to turn to look at Steve and Tony as they walked by. A woman suddenly approached the two of them. She was undeniably pretty, with sleek orange hair and bright blue eyes. The dark blue dress that she wore was alluring. The blond began to wonder if these were the type of women that Tony often brought along to these events. "Tony!" The girl gushed, reaching in for a hug. "I thought you might not show up. _God_ , we have a lot of catching up to do."

"Nice to see you, too, Pepper." Tony barely managed to get the words out because of how tightly she was hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her before the two of them let go. "Steve, this is Pepper. Pepper, this is Steve. She's an old friend of mine," the brunet explained.

"It's nice to meet you, Steve," Pepper told him. 

"It was nice to meet you, also, Pepper," Steve smiled. "Always nice to meet new people."

"Are you not from around here?" She questioned. "Tony hasn't brought you up around me before."

"Steve, why don't you go find my father and talk to him for a bit, okay?" Tony suggested, pointing to a large opening that led to another room. "I'll be right there."

"Of course," Steve said, gulping. He didn't want Tony to leave his side. How could he do this alone? He walked off in that direction anyway, trying his best to not look how he felt. 

He walked around in the area awkwardly for a bit, leaning his head this way and that way in a search for any man that even looked similar to Howard Stark. Steve didn't even know if the man had a mustache or not. He had seen glimpses of him from news articles online and on television, but they typically used younger pictures of the billionaire. Who knew what he looked like at the current moment? 

The blond felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see an older man with a full head of white hair. "Are you... Stephen Rogers? Steven?"

"It's Steve," he reminded the man in front of him with a fake smile. 

"I apologize for the mix-up. I am afraid Tony doesn't tell me much. I'm Howard Stark, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

Oh, crap.

His cheeks flushed out of pure embarrassment. He shamed himself internally for not being able to recognize him at first sight. Steve held out his hand for Howard to shake almost immediately. "It's nice to meet you, too, sir."

"And the boy has manners!" Howard said to himself in surprise, gripping his hand and shaking it vigorously. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "I see that Tony can pick out his dates rather well. Why don't we step right over there to have a nice little chat?" He had his hand pointed over to a corner in the room, which automatically made the blond's hands start to sweat.

Date. It wasn't a date. Howard sure seemed to think it was, though.

Where was Tony when he needed him?

Steve nodded, gulping rather loudly. Howard grinned at that. "Sounds good with me."

Howard walked right next to Steve's side, always attempting to make straight eye contact with him. The blond knew this must be some sort of stupid intimidation tactic, and it was working. He pretended like he was entranced by the activities going on around them instead. Oh, how interesting! A waiter with a plate full of shrimp in his hands! A woman that was focused intently on fixing the nail on her index finger. How amazing.

"Tell me about yourself, Steve," Howard told him. It sounded more like a demand than it did anything else. A short silence followed, and the older man let out a laugh. "There is no need to be shy. I don't bite."

Steve wasn't too sure about believing that statement just yet. Howard Stark was the type of man to bite first. To become a businessman as successful as him, people had to have the mental and sometimes physical strength of a shark. He couldn't give into it. 

"I... play football for the school," Steve began. It was a start, at least.

"Oh, I knew that already," Howard told the blond, seeming as if he was already bored of the conversation. Steve found himself raising an eyebrow at the man in question. Did Tony tell him that, or did this man do some research on his own? Howard gave an innocent shrug, "It's easy to look someone up online, you know. You're a star player. Slightly impressive."

It was more than just a google search of his name, that was for certain. Howard had power. The man had money. He could know anything about anyone within a matter of minutes with a snap of his fingers.

A waiter approached the two. "Drinks?"

Howard grabbed two, and Steve thought he was about to offer him one. "Any for you, Mr. Rogers?"

He directed his attention to the waiter. "No thank you," he told them with a curt nod. They walked off without another word. "I don't drink, Mr. Stark," Steve explained to him.

"I must say, I should have expected you to not be the drinking type." Howard began to chug the first glass of the drink the waiter had given them. Whatever it was, Steve knew Howard probably needed more than two cups to get drunk. "You're an athlete with good ambitions, I suppose? What are your plans for after college, Steve? The NFL? Very competitive." The man moved onto the next glass and downed it in seconds, setting the two of them on the floor for pick up. He wiped his lip off with the back of his bare hand.

"I'm... not exactly sure yet. I have two years to figure it all out," Steve responded with a shrug. In two years, he did not see himself ever wanting to join the NFL. Nothing even related to sports. But he wasn't willing to tell Howard that he had a degree in art education, and was planning on getting a job as an elementary school teacher. Howard probably knew that about him already, anyway. "There's a lot of options for me out there, sometimes it's just hard to pick and choose."

"Two years can go by fast." Howard put a hand on Steve's shoulder and the blond tense upon contact. "Why don't you come on over here? I have a friend of mine that I want you to meet." Mr. Stark led the way, lightly wrapping his hand around the boy's waist as he led both of them to another room. Steve found himself to be immensely uncomfortable and was desperately searching around for any sign of Tony. Steve pulled lightly against his grip, but Howard tightened it slightly. 

Tony, where in the world are you?

Howard continued to speak. "This man you're about to meet, he used to help me when I was younger. Just starting out in the big world as a young man! It's crazy how far he and I go back, and now he's helping Tony. Beautiful, isn't it? Friendships can last a long time if you play your cards--"

"Dad," a voice said from behind them, "Could I please take my date away for a moment?"

Steve let out a long breath of relief. Oh, thank god.

"Tony! Finall-- I mean, yes, please, excuse us."

Howard turned both of them around, hand still resting on the blond's hip. Tony's eyes flickered down at his father's hand in disgust, before making his face with an emotion that was unrecognizable to Steve. Howard looked harshly at his soon, before looking up at Steve to give him a smile. "I expect to be talking to you later, Mr. Rogers." His hand dropped.

"Of-- of course, Mr. Stark," the boy stammered, practically rushing over towards Tony. "We will, um, talk soon."

Tony led Steve away, but he could still feel Howard's eyes burning holes into his back from afar. Steve had the urging suspicion that maybe Howard didn't even like him at all.

"Thank God, Tony." 

"Aw, I'm happy to see you, too, Stevie." Tony joked, before looking at him more seriously. "But yeah, he's an asshole with his suffocating incorrect remarks."

"And the handsiness. The hand on my hip." Steve shrugged carelessly. "He seemed to be okay with me for the most part, so that's a win, right? Your dad likes me."

"I... Did he make you uncomfortable? What am I asking, of course he did, that asshole, I'm going to--" Tony was started to ramble, his face turning red as his eyebrows furrowed.

Steve's heart fluttered at the prospect that Tony cared. Because, God, did Steve care about Tony. More than he would like to admit.

"Tony, _no_!" Steve interrupted the brunet. Tonight there would be no physical confrontations between Tony and his father, he would make sure of that. "What are you-- no, don't worry about me. This is all just very... new. These people say cutting remarks between straight, white teeth. I honestly have no idea how anyone could deal with them alone as long as you have."

Tony shook his head. "Yeah, I... I'm sorry, Steve. You shouldn't have been pulled into this. You deserve so much better than the assholes here. If-- if you want to, you don't have to come to the next two galas."

 _You deserve so much better than the assholes here._ The words echoed in the blonds head.

"Tony, has anyone told you that you have a tendency to only hear the bad things?" Steve questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Surprisingly, yes."

"Unsurprisingly." Steve let out a chuckle, looking out into the distance. "What I was gonna say is how amazing you are for lasting this long. And how I wouldn't want you to go through any more of these alone. Not that you don't have your parents--"

"Steve, trust me, I know. My parents aren't very active in my life."

"Yeah, kind of. And your dad seems..." 

Horrible. Repulsive. Vile. Horrid. Words couldn't begin to explain how Steve felt about Howard Stark.

"He's an asshole. Yeah. But God, he liked you really quick, didn't he?"

That much was true. Despite Howard's ways of showing that he liked people, it could've been worse.

"Maybe because I am also an asshole," the blond retorted.

"Maybe." He held up a finger. " _Or_ , it's because you're the exact opposite and he, too, isn't able to defy your charms."

"Do you want to... dance?" Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing. "Do you-- would you like to... Tony Stark, would you want to--"

"Yes, I'll dance with you. I'd thought you never ask."

"Thank you."

☆

The crowd around them stared, even when they left the dance floor. The blond knew how self conscious he was because of this. They were all, in one way or another, judging the both of them silently. But this time, Steve learned to ignore it, a little bit at the least. All that mattered was Tony. The way he moved so graciously, helping Steve follow his movements without stumbling.

Tony leaned up on his tip toes, his lips right next to Steve's ear. "Do you want to leave?" He whispered.

Steve laughed, "Of course."

☆

The hallway leading up to Steve's dorm was dark and empty. The two of them walked side by side, shoulders constantly bumping into each other because of the small width of the area. Every touch sent tingles through Steve's arm. When they arrived, both of them seemed to know exactly where the door was. Steve, because that was where he slept and ate most of the time. And Tony, because he was the one to drop the suit off yesterday night.

Steve still wasn't sure on how Tony got the address.

The blond leaned up against the wall, looking at the brunet. "We probably look ridiculous," Steve commented, gesturing to their suits.

" _You_ look ridiculous. Now, me on the other hand? Sexy. Gorgeous." Tony joked, that same stupid smirk on his face. 

"This is officially goodbye for now?" Steve asked, looking at his dorm door in sadness. The thought of leaving Tony so early in the night made part of him upset. He had made a good friend, why did their night have to be over so suddenly? 

"For now. I will be expecting to see you on time in the library on Friday."

"What time were you thinking?"

"Whatever works. You can text me." Tony winked at him. 

"I don't have your number, Stark."

"Check your pocket."

Steve fumbled around in his pocket, his fingers finally touching a crumpled up note. He retrieved it and flattened it out with his thumbs. Tony's number was indeed on the slip of paper. "Wow. Okay. I'll give you credit for that one."

Steve looked around the hallway and determined that it was only about 11. If they were still at that event, people would still be donating how ever much money they wanted to prove their wealth. He was glad that Tony had proposed the offer to leave. It was about to become unbearable. The only regret the blond had was not taking some food with him on the way out, the shrimp being served could've fed him and Bucky for days.

He let out a laugh at the thought. Who steals shrimp from a charity gala?

"What's so funny?" The brunet raised one eyebrow at him. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no," Steve assured him. "I should've taken some food out while we were leaving. My roommate and I have a liking for shrimp."

"Shrimp, huh? I could get you some, you know," Tony offered. "We could go to that one nice place downtown and get takeout. I would eat it with you here if... your roommate doesn't mind."

Their faces seemed to inch closer with every second that passed by, and Steve could feel the heat running up his neck and into his face. The fast beat of his heat was undeniable, along with the foggy haze in his mind. His eyes flickered down from Tony's eyes to his lips, trying in some way to figure out if he was feeling these emotions too. Tony looked beautiful in those moments. Deep brown eyes and a smile made of gold.

Steve leaned in a little further.

"Steve," Tony said in an almost whisper.

Was that the first time Tony had ever called him by his first name to his face? It sounded nice coming from him.

"Tony," he murmured back. 

"Steve?" Bucky said groggily as he opened the door. His hair was messy and part of his face was red from whatever he had been napping on. "Come inside, dude, what are you doing out here?"

The two backed away immediately in the presence of Bucky, both of their eyes wide. The sight was suspicious, but Steve hoped Bucky was too tired from sleeping to even notice. Or care.

"Bye, Tony." He gave him a small smile and waved to him as he entered his dorm.

The door was closed quickly by Bucky, but Steve swore he had seen Tony wave back, too.

He could never be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love, guys! An update should be coming soon and I'll definitely be editing this chapter as soon as possible.  
> :)


	4. Bucky Giving Steve His (Not So) Horrible Dating Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tells Bucky about his feelings for Tony. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be shorter than usual! Thank you all for reading, even with my very inconsistent updates.

**"WHATS THE PROBLEM AGAIN?"** Bucky questioned Steve, throwing yet another piece of trash into the bin across the room. It hit the edge of the bin and hit the floor, and Bucky let out a groan. 

"The problem? The problem!?"

"Yes, the problem. What was it again?" 

Steve felt the sudden urge to throw something at Bucky's face. He wasn't even listening!

"I'm falling for Tony Stark!" Steve exclaimed loudly. "That's the problem!"

Steve couldn't even get Tony out of his head. The brunet was invading in every single one of his thoughts. In class, the blond would daydream about the next time he would be able to see him, the next time he would be able to talk to him. Tony was supposed to be helping him with his grades, but now it seemed like he would be the main cause of them going down.

"Yeah, I heard that part." Bucky picked up a piece of crumbled paper off of the floor, throwing it across the room. This time, it landed in the bin. " _Score!_ Okay... okay... I'm listening now. What's the problem with that?"

"The problem is that... is that he's a Stark."

Howard and Tony had always been known not only for their brilliance and their good looks, but for their ability to get practically anyone they wanted, and anything that they wanted. They were the masters of it.

"A player. I thought I warned you about this."

 _Yeah,_ Steve thought, _and I ignored you._

"You did. Just let me continue. He's arrogant and privileged and brilliant and smart and funny and gorgeous and..."

Steve could've gone on. And on. And on.

" _Okay_."

Bucky only had one thought: Yikes, hes whipped.

"Don't do that," Steve said to him accusingly.

"Do what?"

"That expression! It's your Steve is being stubborn for no reason face." Steve saw that face coming from Bucky almost always. 

"The fact that there's a recognizable one..." Bucky trailed off, letting out a sigh.

" _Bucky_." 

"Yes?"

"Help me."

"Steve, I don't know what to tell you! Sam and I just easily fell in love with each other."

Not true. At all.

"You mean after five months of hatred, a month of spiteful friendship and two months of ridiculous pining?"

The blond remembered the start of this like it was yesterday. Bucky had come back after class one day, going on about some stupid boy in his journalism class. Apparently the two of them had been teamed up for a project, but didn't agree on how to do it. With the personalities that Sam and Bucky had, a fight was only waiting to happen.

The hate between them turned somewhat into respect when they realized that, hey, maybe you aren't as stupid as I thought. And soon after that it turned into feelings, with the both of them trying to make the other jealous in some attempt for attention. Steve had to eventually call them out on it, which was the reason they were dating now. They were so busy trying to make each other mad that they were oblivious to the fact that they both had caught feelings.

"Yes." 

"I hate you."

"Look, Steve, has Stark helped you with school?"

The more that Steve looked at it, Tony was helping in more ways than he had originally thought. With his grades now on the rise up, Coach Fury was impressed with him. Teachers had suddenly become more lenient on letting Steve turn in work just a tad bit late. His anxiety and stress about the situation was practically gone now, and all of this was thanks to Tony.

"Definitely. I think I might finally pass a math class with an A... probably a B. Anyway, a high grade." 

If anyone had told Steve maybe five months ago that he would have a chance at passing his math class, he would've laughed right in their face.

"And does he respect you?"

"He... does. He didn't used to. But now..."

"You like him?"

"A lot."

"Then you have two more of those fancy parties to tell him and get you hands on that rich ass before someone smarter does."

How would he even manage to do it? Those charity galas were full of people just waiting to hear something that interested them enough to gossip about. Getting rejected in the middle of one called for disaster. But the blond had to admit that Bucky was right. Telling him sooner than later meant an answer rather than long nights of speculation. Even if that answer meant rejection.

"Gee, thanks, Buck."

"I know, I'm extremely helpful."

☆

 **Unknown Number**  
I would've expected you to text me by now. Way to destroy my confidence, Rogers.

 **Stevie**  
Must've forgotten. My apologies, Stark.

 **Stevie**  
How did you get my number anyway? I don't give it to many people.

 **Tony**  
A genius like me can always get those things.

 **Tony**  
I'm kidding. I paid someone ten bucks for it.

 **Stevie**  
You're joking. Who did you pay?

 **Tony**  
Some cheerleader. Brunette, brown eyes.

 **Stevie**  
There is a lot of girls on the cheerleading team that match that exact description, please be more specific.

 **Stevie**  
And I don't even remember giving my number to any of the cheerleaders!

 **Tony**  
Do you know that you're popular? I'm being serious here.

 **Tony**  
Those girls would kill to have it. She probably got it from someone else.

 **Stevie**  
Yes, I am aware that many people in this school know who I am.

 **Stevie**  
Did you catch her name, by chance?

 **Tony**  
I was asking for your number, not her name.

 **Tony**  
Are you coming to tutoring tomorrow?

 **Stevie**  
Of course I am. 

**Stevie**  
By the way, when is the next gala?

 **Tony**  
Some time next weekend.

 **Tony**  
I'll get you a new suit. I'll deliver.

 **Stevie**  
I'll just wear the one you got me for last time. The people there won't notice.

 **Tony**  
Of course they will notice. 

**Tony**  
I'm getting you a new one. What color tie?

 **Stevie**  
Does it matter?

 **Tony**  
Fine. We'll be color coordinated. You will wear the pink tie and I'll be blue.

 **Stevie**  
Why don't we both wear pink ties? Create a little bit of gossip.

 **Tony**  
I must say I am surprised, I never took you for the gossip type.

 **Tony**  
I'll order them. Everything should be at your door on Sunday.

 **Stevie**  
I have a game on Sunday, so Bucky will probably be there. Just knock and stay at the door, okay? He has a fear of bombs being in packages.

 **Tony**  
I'll buy a ticket. Front row.

 **Stevie**  
What? You don't have to. I probably won't even play.

 **Stevie**  
You can always drop it off on Monday.

 **Tony**  
It doesn't matter to me if you don't play.

 **Tony**  
I'll meet you after the game to give it to you.

 **Stevie**  
If you sit in the front row you will probably get to see me. Look for number 17.

 **Tony**  
Definitely worth the price of the ticket if I do get to see you.

 **Tony**  
If you make a touchdown, make sure to come over and give me a kiss.

 **Stevie**  
Tony, I play offense.

 **Tony**  
I know nothing about football.

 **Stevie**  
Good night, Stark.

 **Tony**  
Good night, Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later when I edit this I am probably going to add more to this chapter. Thanks for reading!


	5. Tony Goes To A College Football Game For The First Time (Ever)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony shows up to sit front row at one of Steve's football games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best Bet is almost at 1000 reads! That's absolutely crazy. Thank you all. For that, some of this chapter will be in Tony's point of view.

**“THANK YOU AGAIN, TONY,” STEVE** told the brunet as they sat in the library, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. They had just finished with another tutoring session. “I don’t really know where I would be right now without you.”

No matter what during tutoring, Tony had always been respectful. Always been understanding about how Steve didn't understand the topics as easily as others around them. Without him there to teach the blond, he would have probably already been kicked off the football team. And in some serious debt.

“Don’t mention it, Rogers.” Tony dismissed his gratefulness with a small shrug. A smirk came upon his lips, and suddenly Steve knew he was about to say something stupid. Or cocky. “A genius like me--”

He had taken the cocky route. Steve rolled his eyes, “I take it back.”

He couldn’t deny that Tony was indeed a genius. He could very easily get the highest grades out of every student on campus. Hell, he didn’t even need a degree to be qualified for any job.

“What? You can’t just take it back.”

“Oops. I already did.”

Tony laughed, getting up out of his chair and pushing it back into its original spot. “Your stubbornness is refreshing, really. Take a walk with me?”

Steve got out of his chair also, shrugging at Tony. “I have to go back to my dorm tonight, Tony. Bucky will be--”

Tony raised a hand and interrupted the blond, “Worried, yes, I know. I already texted him. He is completely aware that you’ll be back a little late. No need to stress it, blue eyes.”

Steve gulped, biting the edge of his lip. Tony was already planning on taking him out for a walk? “I’ll go. But… how did you get Bucky’s number?”

“Same answer to how I got yours. Except I asked one of his friends.”

They exited the library together, the blond following close behind Tony. The night air outside blew in his face and in his hair, blowing it back. Steve wrapped his arms together over his chest. He looked over cautiously at the brunet, accidentally making eye contact. He looked away immediately, a blush coming over his face.

“Like what you see?” Tony asked him jokingly as they walked, smiling. Steve could only feel the red on his face deepening. Tony knew about it too.

“Y--yeah. No! Wait-- I am not trying to be rude, I meant yes. Maybe? You are very good looking and… and a nice view. I was basically just trying to say that--” Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands, “God, this is embarrassing. You-- you’re cute,” he blurted out, his eyes wide.

“You are too, you know.”

His heart started to beat inhumanly fast. “What?” Steve uncovered his face, peeking over at Tony. The brunet was looking out into the distance, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

Did Tony Stark just say he was cute too?

“Nothing,” Tony shook his head. “You want ice cream? That place right over there stays open till’ eleven.” He had his finger pointed at a small place across the street. The outside was decorated in fairy lights, with what looked like paintings on the outsides of the window. The buildings next to it were closed for the day, making it look ever more tempting.

“We haven't even eaten dinner yet,” Steve said.

“I swear, you are so old fashioned. Have you ever eaten ice cream for breakfast before?”

“I have. I’m just used to eating more food because I’m working out all the time.”

“Then just… eat more ice cream.”

“Will do, Stark. Will do.”

✰

**STEVE, IF ANYTHING, WANTED** **_THIS_ ** moment to last forever. (And a new coffee machine.) It was just him, Tony and their almost empty ice cream bowls against the world. Anything was possible now that they were here, laughing at stupid jokes loudly in one of the quietest places on campus.

“You like gummy bears on your ice cream?” Tony asked him, his nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Um, yes. It’s absolutely delicious!” Steve exclaimed, taking a spoonful from his bowl and motioning it towards the brunet. “Here, you can try it.”

“The gummy bears are probably frozen!” Tony told him, leaning away.

“Why don’t you just try it?” 

And Tony had the audacity to call  _ him  _ the stubborn one.

“ _ Fine _ .” Without taking the spoon from the blonds hand, he put his mouth on it, retreating back slowly. The taller boy stared at him eating the ice cream, eyes wide. Did Tony do that on purpose, or was he just plain creepy?

“Is-- is it good?” He stuttered out.

“I would say no to be difficult, but it’s actually… kinda okay.”

“I knew it!”

“Gentlemen,” the woman from behind the counter called to them. “Could you please try to be a tad quieter?”

They both left the ice cream shop after that, spending the rest of their night in peace. Tony ended up walking Steve back to his dorm, since it was the polite thing to do.

Before knocking to have Bucky let him in, Steve looked over at Tony. “I’ll see you on Sunday?”

“I’ll see you on Sunday.”

✰

**TONY WASN’T ONE FOR THE** college football type of scene. The brunet walked carefully through the thickening crowd, looking for the gate number on his ticket. D. He wandered around hopelessly, trying his best to see over the tall figures that stood next to him.

A person from behind bumped into him, sending Tony forward with a jolt.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized. 

“Watch it,” they told him in response, pushing their way through. He said nothing in return, and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t worth the fight.

So yeah, he wasn’t used to this type of thing. At all. 

His phone started to vibrate in his pocket, so Tony retrieved it from the hand-made front pocket on his mom jeans.  _ Natasha _ .

“Did you miss me, Natasha?”

“No.  _ Where are you _ ?” The red head questioned him. _ “Three people have asked me if your seat was taken or not. They’re getting suspicious.” _

Tony weaved his way through the crowd, finally spotting the D gate. “Don’t dwell on it, I’ll be there soon. You got popcorn?”

He flashed the ticket to the guard waiting at the gate, who waved him through with ease. The light coming in through the opening seemed almost blinding at first, as Tony held a hand up to cover his eyes. 

_ “Of course. And your favorite soda, like requested.” _

“Dr. Pepper?”

_ “Barf.”  _ Natasha made a fake throwing up noise over the phone. _ “Why do you like that shit?” _

The brunet quickly spotted Natasha in the crowd. Thank god for her hair.

“It’s good, don’t be rude. I see you, I’ll be there in a minute.”

_ “Alright. See you in a minute.” _

He returned his phone to its designated pocket after hanging up, walking down the small aisle. Natasha waved at him with a bright smile on her face, and he returned the favor. The students around them were screaming and jumping, which only made the boy want to cover his ears.

“Does your shirt say… _ Go Steve? _ ” Tony asked as he sat down, leaning to get a better look. Natasha nodded, turning around to show him the big number seventeen on the back of her cropped shirt. “Wow, you really went all for it.”

The red head began searching through her bag, before throwing a jumbled up piece of blue cloth at him. Another shirt? “I made one for you too. But it has more glitter on it.”

“Thank you, Natasha.” He unfolded it, taking a good look. And boy, was it bright. If Steve didn't notice him in this, then nothing could draw the blonds attention. 

“You brought the suit with you too, right?”

“Yep, all prepared.”

“Gum? Chapstick?” She began to rifle through her own purse. “I have some if you need any.”

“For what?”

“You know for what.” She looked over at him, raising her eyebrows up and down. 

“You’re joking.” Tony shook his head. Steve wasn’t gay. The gaydar in Tony's head always sent some sort of signal when he was around the blond, but he dismissed it due to his own interests in the boy. “He isn’t interested.”

“I am most definitely  _ not  _ joking” Natasha responded with a shrug. “That boy is into you. Rumors about it too. He hasn't dated one girl since he's come here. So say what you want.”

“I will say what I want because I’m right.”

“Mhm.  _ Totally _ .”

They stayed silent after that, the two of them listening to the chants going on around them and watching the cheerleaders do their routine. From time to time Tony would reach over and take some popcorn from the bucket on the red heads lap.

“Natasha, which one is your girlfriend?” 

“Wanda. She’s right there,” the girl pointed to a cheerleader in the crowd that was doing backflips. “Best person on that damn squad, the coach just doesn't see it.”

“She’s impressive. Let me tell you--  _ wait _ ! Is that Steve? That’s number seventeen, right?” Tony exclaimed, standing up from his seat to confirm his sudden theory. “It’s Steve! Look at that!”

“I’ve never seen you so excited to see someone before.”

“Shut up.” Tony started to wave his hands in the air, “ _ Rogers _ !”

“ _ Tony _ , he can’t hear you. And the game hasn't even started yet. Wait until he makes a touchdown to start hollering for him.” Natasha handed him the shirt that she had made, “Put on the shirt, too.”

“He plays offense,” Tony told the girl, quickly changing his attire.

“I don't know what that means.”

“Me neither.”

✰

**THE GAME WAS GOING WELL.** Their own team was winning, the other 21 points behind. Tony was already positive that they would win, but still stayed on the edge of his seat the entire time. He knew nothing about football, but being supportive of Steve was something Tony was willing to do. 

It was already the last quarter, with the sun beginning to lower in the sky. Tony worried that Steve didn't even know if he was here or not. If he would even decide to show up in the first place.

“I bet you could get the attention of those cameras,” Natasha pointed out. “You would be on the big screen. Even if he didn’t see you, it would be talk for  _ weeks _ . Playboy Stark Is Friends With Football Player Rogers!”

“How do I get its attention?”

“Scream? Who knows? It’s random from what I’ve seen. Or people with crazy outfits. Just like… stand up and go crazy. Do what you want.”

So Tony did exactly that, and the social anxiety he usually faced wasn't as evident anymore. Everyone here was standing up on their seats, yelling for whomever they were siding with. As he screamed and threw his arms in the air, he only hoped that the shirt would work.

“It’s no use, Natasha.” He told her, a frown coming upon his lips. 

“Tones…” She trailed off, pointing up to the screen. “I think it worked pretty damn well.”

His head snapped up in a flash, only to see an image of himself looking back. He laughed, flattening out his shirt for all to see.  _ Go Steve! _ , in big bold glitter letters. He turned around to show the camera the number seventeen on the back. This was  _ his  _ moment, and hopefully the blond would see it too. Eventually.

“It worked! It worked, it worked, it worked!” He yelled, hugging the red head tightly. “Sorry, didn't mean to grab you that hard.”

“It's fine, I’m glad.”

✰

**Tony** **  
** Waiting by the main gate. See you here soon.

Steve's heart leaped at the message.

**Stevie** **  
** I see you.

**Tony** **  
** Good to know. Do I look sexy?

**Stevie** **  
** You look like you.

**Tony** **  
** Is that a good thing?

**Stevie** **  
** Pretty much.

Steve walked towards Tony, still wearing his sweaty and dirt covered football uniform. He could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead, some of it going onto his eyelashes or all the way down his neck. He rubbed his hand across his face in an attempt to get rid of it for the moment.

“God, you are sweaty,” Tony commented, his dark brown eyes looking Steve up and down. A playful smile was on his lips, a hint of humor in his look. “I’m liking the whole messy hair type of look going on here.”

Steve ran his hands through his hair purposefully to mess it up a bit more. He pressed his lips together to hide his smile. “This whole messy hair thing? Should I do it more often?”

“Yes, most definitely yes,” the brunet responded, nodding eagerly. In his hands, he held a small black box with a white bow on top. He noticed the fact that Steve had been staring at it. “Oh, this box is for you, by the way,” he explained, handing it over.

He held the box with care, looking at the messy scrawl at the top. Tony’s handwriting, no doubt.

_ For Steve. _

_ With care, Tony. _

“Thank you. It really does mean a lot to me.”

The sun setting in the sky left a glow on Tony’s face, making him look even more handsome. (Which Steve hadn't thought was even possible in the first place.) His tousled hair, his eyes and his lips. The blond was obsessed, but looked down at his shirt to conceal it.

“What… what does your shirt say?”

Tony flattened it out to give him a better look.  _ Go Steve _ , in big golden letters, coated in glitter. He turned around to show him his own jersey number on the back. Seventeen.

Steve’s mouth parted in equal parts shock and awe. “Wow,” he breathed out, taking it all in. “You wore that… for me?”

Tony let out a short laugh. “Who else would I have worn it for, Rogers? Is there another Steve that I don't know about?” The smaller boy raised an eyebrow.

“No, of course not. I’m just--”

“Surprised?”

“Yes. Surprised. That’s a word for it.” Was there a word to describe being hit with one of Cupid’s Arrows? To describe the impeccable feeling of liking someone that doesn't like you back? “Did you make that yourself, or no?”

The brown haired boy shook his head, “Natasha made it for me.”

Steve didn't know Natasha all that well. Before Tony came around with tutoring, he had only ever asked her for homework answers and class notes. But even through that, he would be able to recognize her in a crowd in an instant. Her red hair and the tattoos covering her arms made her stand out.

“Tell her I said thank you.”

“Will do, pretty boy. I expect to be picking you up later this week?”

Pretty boy. Steve sucked in a sudden breath, the words repeating in his head.

“Yes, what day?” He asked.

“I’ll text you the details.”

“Bye, Tony.”

Tony, would you like to walk me back to my dorm and hang out for the night? Bucky wouldn't mind. Tony, would you like to go out with me? Tony, will you be my boyfriend? Even just for a day? Tony, Tony, Tony.

Steve wanted to say every single thought that ran through his head at the moment. To tell Tony everything, to trust him with his secret and to believe for even a second that a Stark would like him back. But he didn’t say any of it, maybe it just wasn't the right time for those types of confessions.

Was he just high off of adrenaline?

“Bye, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing seems sloppy in this so expect some updates soon!


	6. Blackmailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Steve attends the second charity event with Tony Stark, he meets the one and only Obadiah Stane.

**STEVE HAD GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO** Bucky’s terrible sleep schedule. His roommate was up during the day just for enough time to attend his classes, but as soon as he got back to their dorm -- he was out like a light. It only resulted in the brown haired boy staying up at night, repeating the same process from the day before.

He and Sam both had made many attempts to try and get him to function on normal hours, like everyone else. But it just… didn’t work. It was almost like Bucky was born to be a nightowl.

“A pink tie?” Bucky mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. The blond had just woken him up (from probably the second nap of the day) to show him his new suit from Tony.

“Nice, right?” 

Steve scanned his eyes up and down the outfit, admiring what Tony had done for him. 

“Mhm, nice,” the brown hair boy agreed, laying his head down on the surface closest to him. Bucky closed his eyes, about to fall asleep. Again.

“Bucky.” Steve shook his shoulders, “Wake up.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes.”

Bucky groaned, opening his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“What-- what am I going to do?” Steve asked him, putting his hands on top of his hand, pacing around their small dorm space. “When I asked first, you were like, tell Tony. But how? Am I just supposed to say that I like him a lot, like a lot a lot? Or would that be weird?”

“Please stop waking around, you’re making me dizzy,” Bucky pleaded, running his hands through his hair. Steve then resorted to sitting down on the very edge of his bed, bouncing his foot up and down. “But look, Stevie, someday and somehow you have to tell him. Even if you were to say that you like him a lot, like a lot a lot, it gets the point across.”

“And if he rejects me?”

“Why would he?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his gaze at Bucky. “We don’t even know if he likes guys!”

The brown haired boy rolled his eyes. “The cuffed jeans. His daddy issues. Him being an absolute mess. Those three ingredients call for a bisexual.”

Bucky was a bisexual himself, of course he would know.

“Just because he might be bisexual doesn’t mean he’s into me,” the blond defended.

“Ask him if he likes Sweater Weather by the Neighbourhood.”

“ _Buck_ , I’m being serious.”

“Fine, okay, you’re right. But there’s only one way to find out.”

“I have to tell him?”

“Yes, you _have_ to tell him.” Bucky plopped his head back down, closing his eyes. “Now let me sleep, I have to facetime Sam later.”

☆

“I think that these matching ties are quite the hit,” Steve whispered into Tony’s ear, glancing around at all the people around them. Judgement filled their eyes as they whispered to others, pointing to the two discreetly -- or at least, their way of being discreet. Which wasn’t subtle at all. “Aren’t you glad that I said something about it?”

“Very,” Tony agreed with a short laugh.

Steve knew that he couldn’t trust his own conscience at times. He didn’t even have any regard for his own safety. But he had a sudden suspicion, that hey, maybe he should tell Tony now. In the middle of all this. Better now than later, right?

“Tony…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the floor, “Could I talk to you about something?”

“What is it?” The smaller boy questioned him, looking up into the blonds eyes with furrowed eyebrows.

“I am very sorry to interrupt,” Jarvis disrupted the two. “Mr. Stark, your father requires your immediate presence,” the man explained, throwing an apologetic glance Steve’s way. Steve nodded to him, lips in a tight line. It was his way of saying that it was alright.

“I-- okay, okay. Steve, I’ll be right back. Obie will be here in a second, then we’ll go back to your place.” Tony started to walk off, looking seemingly upset.

“And we can talk?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Tony left, walking away with Jarvis at his side. Which only left Steve alone in a mostly crowded room, filled with mindless chatter. He grabbed a water from a table nearby, chugging it down.

Tony had mentioned Obadiah Stane on the ride here. He was one of his father’s old friends, who had helped with Stark Industries on its rise to fame. Steve had heard Howard talk about Obadiah before, but at the time he just didn’t know the man’s name. Was that the man that Howard was so intent on meeting Steve?

One thing was for sure: Steve didn’t want to meet him. 

While the brunet had said many good things, there was one thing about Obadiah that stuck out. He was a snake, slithering into everybody's business and threatening to ruin their lives to get his way. The blond wondered if that's how he was friends with Howard Stark now.

What secrets could Howard Stark possibly be hiding? Nothing that important, Steve assumed. But it must be important enough to the point where Obadiah has a hold of it.

Instead of pondering over it, Steve decided to over his lines for later instead. “Tony, I really like… no, not that. Ugh, Bucky made this sound way too easy.”

“Mr. Rogers!” A man called out from across the room, approaching the blond. Howard had probably mentioned Steve to Obadiah already, there was no need to be paranoid.

“Hello, Mr. Stane,” Steve greeted with a tight lip smile, “Did you have a nice evening?”

“Yeah! Sure! Lots of eye candy here, of course, but I’m sure a young man like you noticed that?” Steve gulped. He sure had a way of getting straight to the point.

“I… can’t say that I did. Someone special, as you know, already has my eye.”

Tony, ever since they had first met each other in that hallway, had always had Steve’s eye. Always in his thoughts, in his words.

“Smart answer. But… I gotta admit, Rogers, something was bothering me. Something has been for the last two galas.”

“Oh? Have you told Mr. Stark--”

“Actually I thought I should take it up with you.”

The blond stayed quiet for a minute, tilting his head in confusion. Before he suddenly got it. “Am… am I the problem, Mr. Stane?”

“ _Bingo_!” He snapped his fingers, smiling. “Smarter than I thought an art education major would be.”

It hurt Steve to hear those words coming out of his mouth. Art education majors were just as smart as anybody else. Just as capable as anybody else. The only difference was that they chose to teach in a subject that they loved to do, not go out and chase money for their entire lives.

“Well. To Tony, to Mrs. and Mr. Stark, and to Mr. Jarvis, I’m fine. I’m not sure what to tell you since who Tony dates doesn't concern you or your work for the family--”

“See, it kinda does. Maria was a smart choice for Howard -- good family, good looking, knew how all of this worked, and already had connections. Plus, I like her.”

“And you don’t like me,” the blond finished off for him.

“An arrogant, idealistic, football player firmly set in the liberal agenda? Gotta admit it, kid, I don’t think we can coexist with the Starks,” Obadiah explained, concealing his hate with a fake face of innocence.

“Are you trying to… blackmail me?” He knew that somehow, he should’ve been expecting this. Should’ve been expecting Obadiah to do _something_. Steve was trying to see a way that this wasn’t his fault. What kind of psychopath would blackmail a college student?

“I’m expecting you to do what's best for Tony. I see how you look at him. I know you care for him. And Tony deserves someone who does. But not you. He needs someone who is adapted to this. He needs someone… what's the word?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s it! See, you keep surprising me. I don’t really like that, either.”

“So you just expect me to leave him?” His heart burned at the thought of it. “You’re not threatening me?”

“Oh, I definitely am,” Obadiah corrected. “All I have to do is pull some strings and you’re off the football team and out of school.”

The blond stayed silent, looking at the man in confusion.

Obadiah leaned closer, running his fingers over the pink tie that Steve wore. He wanted to back away, but found himself frozen in place. “I hope you do what's right, Rogers. No hard feelings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will definitely be editing later. Thank you for reading!  
> (Also, Jarvis is alive in this universe. Wanted to clear that up.)


	7. Mrs. Carter And Her Impeccable Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Steve grows more and more desperate with the absence of Tony, he goes to Mrs. Carter for her advice.

**“THAT WAS THE LAST GALA** . Whoa.” Time had flown by in what seemed like a moment. It only felt like yesterday that Tony was asking Steve if he could tutor him. Their first tutoring session in the library when he was late, their first charity gala together, the first time they went out for ice cream. 

Steve was being shockingly quiet. “Steve?” The brunet asked.

“Right. The last one. I mean, thank God it was.”

“Yeah, they were pretty boring,” Tony agreed.

“And finally we can be rid of each other.”

Tony felt his heart beating faster in his chest, his breathing getting faster. “What?”

“End of the semester is coming, my finals are in a week and a half, and that was the last gala. We’re done.”

“Yeah, but--”

“We’ve both used each other out.”

“ _ Used _ ?” His lips parted, before pressing them together in a thin line. Tears were brimming on the edge of his eyes. Steve had been using him this entire time? He didn’t want to believe it. Steve Rogers was a good guy.

Or at least he had thought so. 

“You didn’t think that we were… friends or something, right?” He questioned, laughing. 

Tony remembered in a flash all they had been through. The damn football jersey, the flirting, the late night talks. He knew in some way that the Steve Rogers he was talking to now wasn’t the one he was with last week. Unless he was a great actor, and in that case, Tony had just been played.

The player getting played. How cliche. 

“I… No. No. No, I didn’t.”

“Tony, I…  _ good _ . Because we’re far from friends. I got what I needed, your dad saw you with an impressive guy… so we’re done.”

“Right,” Tony nodded, turning around.

What a complete and utter waste of time. What a waste of his own feelings, of his own thoughts.

“Tony, wait--” Steve called out.

“We’re done, Rogers. Jarvis will be waiting to take you home. Bye.”

Tony walked off that day, tears falling shamelessly down his cheeks. He didn’t know it, but Steve was crying too.

☆

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

The days that Steve spent without Tony were long, the nights induced with sob sessions and Bucky trying his best to comfort his best friend. He had lost someone he cared about -- that he still would continue to care about. And for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Steve would get beer from the older players on his team, drinking the bottles one by one at night to help him fall asleep. He was only twenty years old, which doing this meant going against all of the morals in his head. But if it helped, it helped. Sleep was better than soaking Bucky’s shirts with tears.

Bucky was more than worried. He had always been inclined to being worried about Steve, but now it was becoming more and more evident. His best friend, obviously heart broken, who never drank was now starting to drink out of nowhere? He wasn’t having it.

He started to hide the beer bottles around their dorm to the best of his own abilities. In the floorboards, in the ceiling, between his mattress and the sheets. But Steve would grow to be cranky, begging Bucky to give him just one. Just one to help with the night.

The brown haired boy kept his stance. Steve would not become an alcoholic on his watch. That same day threw the beers away, only for the blond to come home with another six pack of it that night. 

Had separating with Tony really thrown him that far off the deep end? 

“I passed with a high A,” Steve told him,, staring up at the ceiling absentmindedly. Tears brimmed on the edge of his eyes, but the blond wiped them away. 

“Statistics?” Bucky asked. 

“Yep.”

“Wow. And you let him go?”

“Shut up, Buck—“

It was a touchy subject. It had always been touchy. But Bucky didn’t know any other way that he could get Steve to come back to his own damn senses. 

“I’m just saying, Steve, he’s a rich genius. He could’ve helped you get out of your financial situation, football or not. It’s not like you enjoy playing anyways,” the brown haired boy explained, shrugging his shoulders innocently. 

It was all true. And if Tony did like Steve — which Bucky knew he was right about — he would’ve helped the blond regardless. 

“I promised Mom before she died that I would graduate. I’m not gonna take Tony’s charity to help me pass, and this is… this is better for him anyway.” 

“And who’s saying that?” Bucky questioned, raising an eyebrow. “You,” he pointed a finger at Steve, “or the old bastard who ruined your relationship?”

Steve stayed silent. 

“Just make sure you made the right choice,” Bucky told him, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen you happier than when you’re talking about him.” 

☆

“Mrs. Carter, could I talk to you?” Steve asked the woman early the next morning, picking up his abstract painting from the counter. It had dried ages ago, but he never felt the need to come and pick it up. Too many memories were attached to this one canvas. 

She walked over to him immediately, a smile on her red lips. “Of course, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” 

“Yes,” the blond lied. He ran his thumb over part of the canvas, feeling the texture of the paint. 

Mrs. Carter shook her head, “I know when you’re lying to me, Steve. Would you like to talk about it?” 

No, not really, he thought. But he wanted to cry about it, and needed to cry about it. 

He sniffled, “Sure.” 

The woman pulled out two chairs for them at the nearest table, sitting down in one of them. “Sit here with me for a moment.” 

Steve nodded, sitting down without a fight. He put his painting down carefully on the table, but Mrs. Carter picked it right back up. Her eyes inspected the painting, not in judgement, but in awe. 

“And who might this painting be about?” Mrs. Carter asked him. She didn’t even have to ask to know the meaning behind his brush strokes. 

“Someone— someone special.” 

“What about this certain someone was special to you, Mr. Rogers?” 

“Everything. Absolutely everything. They were a mess, but undoubtedly beautiful. They were always there for me. There for me when I was acting dumb, there for me when I needed it most.” He spilled it out without thinking, but didn’t have any regrets. Mrs. Carter was someone to trust. “Maybe I loved them. I will never know for sure.” 

He did love Tony. Maybe he had always loved Tony. 

“Did they let you go? Or were you the one to let go first?” 

“It was me,” he admitted shamelessly, looking down at the table in embarrassment. 

“Go and tell them.” 

“What?”

“Go and tell them. Talk to them. Say everything that’s on your mind that you’ve been wanting to say before.” 

“And what if I’m too late?”

“Oh, Mr. Rogers, you can always be too late. But would you rather know the truth, or live with the fact that you never knew how they felt about you?” 

“But it’s not that easy.” 

“Nothing is that easy. But you, Mr. Rogers,” she poked his chest with her finger, “are the judge of what happens next. No one else is responsible for how this story ends.” 

“What if—“ 

“No what if’s here. You go tell them and you mean it.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Carter.”

“Always.” 


	8. Malibu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony meet up for the first time in two weeks -- and Tony has a confession to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be adding more to this chapter! (It's only 873 words, needless to say I am ashamed) Thank you for reading.

**THE MINUTE THAT RHODEY HAD** stepped into Tony’s apartment after getting back from study abroad, he knew something was up. He knew Tony well, a little too well in the brunets opinion. Rhodey could easily call out his bluffs (which made poker games much less fun), know when he was lying and even determine what Tony was going to say next without him saying it first.

But Tony wasn’t going to let Rhodey break down his walls that easily. Steve Rogers was a subject he didn’t want to talk about.

His best friend persisted, day and night, text after text, begging Tony to tell him what had happened so he could help. The brunet was stubborn about it at first, thinking that he could overcome this on his own. As the days passed by, Tony realized that maybe he did need Rhodey's advice and support. So he caved in, explaining to Rhodey in detail of what had happened between him and the blond. 

It hurt to remember it. Steve was always a part of Tony’s thoughts. The only difference was that now, the brunet did other things to occupy his mind. School work, reading, working out.

“So… what?” Rhodey asked him after he had finished explaining his ordeal. “You just gave up on him? Just like that?” He spun himself around in circles in an office chair.

“What else was I supposed to do?” 

Go back and profess his love for someone who didn’t feel the same? Pathetic. 

“ _ Wow _ ,” Rhodey raised his eyebrows. “I’m gone for six months and apparently you still haven’t learned how to communicate.” 

“ _ Rhodey— _ “ 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you chose not to say his name. Who is this guy?”

Shit.

“It’s Steve Rogers, okay?”

“You mean the guy you’ve been crushing on for over a year now.”

It was true. 

Tony had only heard of Steve because of his gaining popularity. All the girls were talking about him, obsessing over how they would get him to date them. Tony wanted to figure out what all this fuss was about, only to find out that the blond was extremely good looking -- not to mention talented. No wonder the whole student population was swooning over him.

Tony had seen Steve around on campus a few times after that, chatting with friends in the dining hall or in the library trying to get a textbook. He had made a promise to himself not to catch feelings, because football players like Steve were straight. But his own heart betrayed him.

Rhodey had heard all about Steve Rogers and Tony’s crush on him before he went to Germany.

“Don’t remind me.”

“And you’re just letting him go.” 

“You didn’t hear what he said, gummy bear.” Tony could still see Steve’s face in his mind the moment he said that they had used each other out. That they weren’t ever friends. It was all just a game of play pretend to Steve. “He… he doesn’t like me.”

He should’ve expected it. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. Tony was right when he said that the blond had good charm.

“ _ Right _ ,” Rhodey rolled his eyes. “And that explains him going out with you for ice cream after one of your study dates, and him complimenting you and him asking to dance with you at all of these galas including the one where he ended things with you.”

The brunet kept his mouth shut, picking at his fingernails -- which were freshly painted black. Would Steve have liked this color?  _ No, don’t think that way _ , he scolded himself.

“Give up on him if you want to… but I know that’s just not in your blood.” 

✰

**TONY AND RHODEY SPENT THE** rest of the day packing cardboard boxes in Tony’s apartment. At least a dozen of them had already been packed up and stacked on top of one another by the front door, ready to be put into the trunk and backseat of his car.His apartment was nearly empty now, except for the furniture, some dishes and clothing that wouldn’t fit into the other boxes. 

The brunet had made the impulsive decision to move down to California with his father, where a new Stark Industries building was being constructed. He would stay there for a year to help Howard get everything set up, before returning back to this college to finish his degree. Tony wasn’t sure if he regretted this decision just yet.

“Since when did you get these?” Rhodey questioned, holding a pair of shoes in his hands. They were coated in a thick layer of black glitter. It reminded Tony oddly of the shirt he had worn to Steve’s football game.

“Natasha,” the brunet told him. 

“Figures.”

“You know what--” His phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He retrieved it, looking at the name displayed brightly across the screen: Stevie. Tony’s heart beat wildly in his chest. “I’m gonna answer this.”

“Who is it?”

“No one,” he responded defensively. He slowly clicked the answer button.

_ “Tony?”  _

Hearing Steve’s voice for the first time in two weeks almost made him faint. “St-- Rogers?”

“I knew it!” Rhodey exclaimed loudly, dropping the shoes, which landed on the floor with a loud clunk.

Tony covered the edge of his phone to block out any sound from his side, “Shut up!”

_ “Tony, hi. I… could we meet up? And I-- I’d totally understand if you don’t want to, but I left things off badly and I need to… can we just meet up?” _ The blond requested from the other side of the phone, the nervousness in his voice evident.

“Where? I need to tell you something, too.”

Tell you that I like you. Tell you that I’m moving away because I couldn’t handle being pushed away by you.

_ “Oh?”  _ Steve paused,  _ “Well, the fountain in the campus park, 8. Don’t be late, brown eyes.” _

The brunet hung up without another word, staring blankly at the dark screen of his cellphone.

“You okay, Tony?”

“Always.”

✰

**STEVE HAD BEEN WAITING IN** the campus park for nearly forty five minutes, sitting patiently on the edge of the running fountain. His anxiety was getting to the best of him. This reminded him of a time not long ago, when he was sitting in the library -- only waiting for Tony to show up. This time, though, Tony had every reason to not show up without a word. Things were different between them now.

“Just deal with it, Rogers,” he told himself, leaning his head down. “He’s not showing up. Damn it.”

The blond knew he couldn’t be upset at him, that he couldn’t be mad. Steve was the one to end things. It was his fault.

“Steve,” he heard a voice out of the blue.

The blond looked up, a smiling fighting to make its way on his face. “Tony.”

“I’m sorry I was late, but I had to… I had to finish packing,” the smaller boy explained, his eyes everywhere on Steve’s face except for his eyes.

His heart sunk in his chest. He was more expecting the lab emergency excuse. Not this. “Tony, I-- wait… packing?”

Tony swallowed, “I-- I’m leaving. I’m taking a break year to work at the Stark Industries headquarters in Malibu.”

“You’re moving to Malibu? When?”

“Steve… I’ll be out of the city by the end of next week.”


	9. Sadly, I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tells Tony everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this and joining me on this journey. I will be writing another story soon.  
> I will also be editing this chapter, but I wanted to get this posted before tomrrow.

**TONY WAS MOVING TO MALIBU.** Steve’s heart beat wildly in his chest, his head spinning with thoughts. This was his fault, it was all his fault. The blond stumbled up from his seat, starting to walk away. He couldn’t handle this. Not anymore.

“ _ Steve! _ ” Tony called up, running up after him. “Steve! Where are you going?”

He looked back, shaking his head at the brunet. “I… I can’t just-- I can’t do this anymore, Tony.”

“What? You can’t do what anymore?”

“I can’t act like I… I can’t… never mind. I’m leaving, okay?” He swallowed loudly, fighting back the tears in his eyes. “Let me go.”

“Damn it, Rogers!” The brunet yelled, his eyebrows furrowed. “ _ No _ !”

“What?”

“You’re not leaving! Not without an explanation! You left me last time with no reason as to why you were acting like a jerk and I’m not letting it happen again. I… I can’t let it happen.”

“Tony, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving. I can’t--”

“Can you please stop walking away?”

“Tony… I can’t--”

“You can and you will, so just-- explain why--”

“Tony, I mean that I can’t act like I’m not ridiculously and irrevocably in love with you,” Steve professed. Maybe he had known it from the first moment they met, the first time they danced together, the first time they went out. But Tony didn’t harness those same feelings, and god, did it hurt. “And… and I know how we are. I hated you, then we were friends, then I hated you, then we were maybe something more, but… I’m tired of the blurred lines. You will  _ always  _ be my best bet, Tony. And In all honesty… I wouldn't want to bet on anyone else anyways.”

“Say it again.”

“Say-- say what again?”   
“Tell me you love me.”

The blonds eyes widened, his lips parting in shock. “I… I love you. I love you, Tony.”

“I love you, too, Steve Rogers. So much.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

“This is where you kiss me, Steve.”

“Right, got it.”

✰

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

“And then what?” Bucky asked, sitting on the edge of the couch in anticipation. 

“Steve caught me, of course. Then he punched out Obie,” Tony explained to everyone in the room.

“You said he was all the way across the room!” Bucky exclaimed.

“I’d never let Tony fall in front of a huge group of people,” Steve told him with a laugh. “He’d socially die.”

“So,” Rhodey started, “Let me get this right. You forced your father to start a new Stark Industries headquarters in the city, you exposed Obadiah Stane's plans to steal and sell nuclear weapons on the black market, then Steve punched him after he shoved you?”

“Don’t forget the part where Tony loudly said that he and Steve were going to get married and have artistic babies in the future,” Sam added on.

Steve blushed, hiding his face in his hands. Artistic babies. Sounds about right.

“Right,” Rhodey said sarcastically. “And wow, that sounds really romantic.”

“I know, we’re adorable.” Tony smirked, leaning up against the kitchen counter.

“Are you guys ready? If we’re going to get to the new Stark headquarters opening on time, we gotta go now,” Natasha called from the bathroom, carefully applying thick eyeliner in the mirror. The red head would look back every few seconds, to confirm that both of them were even.

“I call shotgun,” Sam told them, running to the front door.

Bucky got up right after him, racing to the door, “Sorry, babe, but that seat is mine.”

“Both of you, shut up, okay?” The red head requested, poking her head out of the bathroom to give Sam and Bucky her death glare. “Rhodey is getting shotgun.”

“Thank you, Natasha.”

“Are you ready to go?” Steve asked his boyfriend, looking over at him with a wide smile.

“As long as you’re there with me, blue eyes.”

“You’re a sap, Stark.”

“You love it.”

“Sadly, I do.”


End file.
